


Where Credit is Due

by Cheeziswin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Child Abuse, First Kiss, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeziswin/pseuds/Cheeziswin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan and Ford take a drive out to the pier to get away from their father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Credit is Due

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a fic for @grxmmarstanley and @grunkle-stud based on one of their RPs. Then it just… developed a mind of it’s own and now is absolutely nothing like their RP. I hope you two like it anyways!

“I swear,” Stan seethes through his teeth, stepping on the gas pedal a bit too roughly. “That man deserves to burn in hell.”

“Stanley…” Ford sighs weakly, firm grip on the car seat and a gentle one on his cheek

“ _No!_ ” Stan bursts “No, I’m serious, Ford. I’m not gonna let you defend him after tonight. Who hits their kid over something like that?!”

“It was a bad grade, Stanl-”

“You got a _C_! Your first C _ever_! In your entire life!” Stan defends, white knuckled grip on the steering wheel audibly twisting the leather cover. “That’s not even a bad grade, Ford!”

“Compared to straight A’s it is.” Ford says, just before Stan violently turns the wheel. The car swerves sharply to the right, and Ford barely manages to stay in his seat, but is otherwise unfazed.

“No one has gotten straight A’s their entire life!”

“Well-” Ford said, crinkling his eyes and quirking his lip.

“Don’t you _dare_ start listing people.” Stan warned, deadly serious, staring straight ahead at the road.

They both go silent then. Stan continues breaking every road law he possibly can, and Ford stares out the window. He idly rubs his cheek. The car continues to jerk left and right, drifting around corners and tires squealing. Ford easily keeps himself from falling over, having memorized which turns Stan was gonna make by now. They’ve driven this route so much, he could probably do it blind. Stan already drives like he is blind, so not much would change, Ford supposes.

Stan slams on the breaks, and thankfully Ford’s able to prevent his face from slamming into the dashboard. But only just barely. Once he sits back up from his flung position, he glances over at his brother.

Stan’s jaw is set firmly closed, grip on the steering wheel so tight that his hands are probably gonna hurt when he takes them off. His eyes are staring angrily and defiantly ahead, as if he can crack the windshield just by looking at it.

He hasn’t looked at Ford once since they left the house.

Ford knows why, if the throbbing on his right cheek is anything to go by.

Ford looks back ahead, turning the injured cheek as far from Stan’s view as possible. He hasn’t seen it, but it’s probably turned purple by now. It felt like it covered the span of the whole left side of his face, too, the pain still faintly there.

The keys jingled as Stan turned off the car, the headlights flickering off and the engine dying down. He pulled the keychain out of the ignition and idly played with it, the sound of the keys clinging together filling the silence. It was something he always did when he was feeling nervous, especially in long stretches of silence like this. The sound was familiar, and usually didn’t bother him, but it made Ford’s ears ring tonight.

After a moment more of the high pitched jingling, Stan closed his hand around the chain, ceasing all the noise. But he filled the sudden silence with a sigh.

“Sorry.” Stan apologizes, voice sounding tired beyond his years. “I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you.”

“I understand, Stanley.” Ford whispers, voice sounding just as tired as his brothers.

“How are you so _calm_?” Stan asks in disbelief after a pause, some of the heat returning to his voice. For the first time after the incident, he turns to his brother.

Ford turns and faces his brother too, giving him a feeble smile that tears through both their hearts. A smile that says I’m used to it. Both of them have been on the receiving end of this face before. Stan’s eyes settle on the bruise on Ford’s cheek, and the anger returns full blaze, his fist tightening around the keys. He glares at the bruise for only a second before returning to his previous game of staring at the windshield in hopes that it would shatter into a million pieces.

Ford’s breath caught in his throat. Stan couldn’t even stand to _look_ at it.

The air seemed even more tense now than it was before. Ford couldn’t stop staring at Stan in worry, the way his brows curled down in anger, his jaw tightened, and the way his arm muscles went rigid as he balled his hands into angry fists in his lap. Stan was taking deep breaths, clearly trying his best to calm himself down, whole body shaking with the suppressed rage.

Ford could practically feel his heart wither when he watched the tears at the corner of Stanley’s eyes form. Hot, fury filled streaks started down Stanley’s cheeks and it was like every tear was a sucker punch to Ford’s gut.

“ _Stanley_ …” Ford choked out, hand going to rest atop Stan’s balled up fist. He could feel the way his hands quivered under his fingers, and after a moment Stan’s closed fists opened and desperately gripped Ford’s hand in both of his own. Ford didn’t say a word as Stan lifted their joined hands up, pressed his forehead to Ford’s hand, and released a quiet sob. Ford let him cling to his hand like a lifeline as he cried, hitching breaths and uncontrollable wails falling from his brother. Ford desperately wanted to catch them, desperately wanted to console his brother, but what could he do that he hasn’t done before? What could he say to make such a bleak situation seem more optimistic? It was a near impossible feat that Ford was sure he couldn’t conquer. So he let his hand stay clenched between Stan’s, let his brother weep into it, entire body being wracked with sobs, and Ford helpless to stop them.

“I-I don’t want this to happen a-anymore.” Stan warbled out, breath hitching a few times as he tried to calm his breathing “This shouldn’t ke-ep _happening_ to-to you, Ford.”

Ford said nothing as Stan continued to cry. Ford said nothing as Stan’s words started coming out too muffled and inconsolable for him to understand. Ford said nothing as Stan lowered their hands. He said nothing as Stan’s lips hovered dangerously close to the back of Ford’s hand.

“I should be able to protect y-you, but I _ca-an’t_!” Stan whispers against Ford’s hand, lips brushing it as he spoke “If I can’t even p-protect you, wh-wh-what the hell am I doing h-here?

Ford says Stanley’s name.

Stan looks into Ford’s eyes from his own red rimmed, overflowing ones.

Stan looks so broken, and god, it feels like someone slowly dragging their nails across Ford’s heart like it’s a chalk board. Ford has absolutely no idea what to do, what to say, he just knows he should do something besides stare at his brother who is practically falling apart before his eyes.

Quickly, before he really had the chance to think about it, he flung himself forward and wrapped his arms around his brother. Stan didn’t hesitate for a millisecond before returning the hug, clutching him as close as he could in their awkward position. Ford’s body was twisted and stretched uncomfortably, but he really couldn’t care less. All he could care about was his brother in his arms, his tears soaking into the shoulder of his shirt, his fingers fisted in the back of his shirt.

Ford continued not to say a word, just let his brother blubber and sob into his shoulder. Ford could count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen his brother like this, and every time he reacted the same; like a deer in headlights, too shocked to think to jump out of the way of the incoming headlights, too shocked to think of anything to say.

After a while, when Stan’s crying seemed to die down at least enough that he could manage coherency, Ford pulled away. Stan’s hands kept their grip on Ford’s shirt, and Ford kept his hands on Stan’s shoulders, both loathe to stop embracing each other. Stan looked even worse off than he was before, gold street light glinting in his damp eyes, entire face illuminated by only a dim glow. His cheeks were flushed, wet from the salty tears streaming down his face. They stared at each other for only a moment before Stan sniffled and turned away entirely, gently shrugging Ford’s hands off.

” _God_. This is s-so pathetic.“ Stan whimpered, desperately scrubbing away the tears that were still pouring ” _Yo-You’re_ the one that got beat, and he-here I am stealin’ all'a the attention.“

Ford’s frown deepened as his brother started apologizing, swiping at his eyes to try and get the waterworks to stop. He grabbed Stan’s wrist to halt his motions, and Stan turned back to him in surprise. Ford gave him as reassuring a smile as he could manage as he tentatively took Stan’s face in his hands. He gently used his thumb to wipe away a tear, and Stan seemed to calm down some at the action, so he kept on. If a tear fell, Ford would quickly wipe it away, until there were no more tears for him to wipe away. Ford continued to caress his brothers face, even when his brothers sobbing finally calmed down to just hitching breaths. Stan’s eyes were closed as he leaned ever so carefully into Ford’s touch, letting out an almost imperceptible hum of appreciation.

"I don’t think you’re pathetic at all, Stanley.” Ford whispers sincerely a few minutes later. Stan’s eyes open slowly, they meet Fords, and… _something_ passes between them that neither of them can really explain. Some emotion that they can’t put a pin on overtakes them. Ford feels warm, especially where his hands are meeting Stan’s face, and he feels Stan slowly leaning forward, face regaining it’s redness. Ford leans forward too, finding himself unconsciously pulling Stan’s face closer as he does so, their lidded eyes glued together. Stan’s eyes flicker down to Ford’s lips for only a moment and Ford gulps when he notices Stan bite his lip. Their faces are mere centimeters apart now, Ford can feel his brothers shaky breath against his face, and he notices Stan slowly start to tilt his head.

Ford breaks the distance, and their lips meet in a soft, careful connection that lasts all of three seconds before they both pull away. But then they meet again, the same careful touch that makes them both feel like jelly. As they continue the slow, tentative kissing, Stan’s hands find their way to Ford’s shoulders, resting there, fingers pressing in ever so softly.

Everything is _warm_. Their entire bodies, their hearts, their brothers lips. Everything is warm and fuzzy and new. Neither of them had _ever_ thought of kissing their brother before. Ever in their _life_. But now that it’s happening, now that they’re sharing this intimate touch, it seems like this was long overdue. Like their lives had just been working up to this and they’d never realized it. Both of them realize, kissing each other now, it makes sense of so much. All the touching they did, all the cuddling, all the emotions they feel when they look at each other, it all has a new perspective to it. They’d always just thought that’s how brothers felt, that’s how _twins_ felt, but clearly it’s something more than that, now that their lips are locked and it feels like they should voluntarily throw away the key.

Kissing each other makes the whole world mute. They forget all about what’s happened that night, Ford can barely feel the dull ache of the bruise any more, all he can feel is _Stan_. Stan’s hands on his shoulders, Stan’s lips against his, Stan’s cheek under his hands. And Ford feels some sick satisfaction when Stan’s hand comes to rest over the bruise. This is all _Filbricks_ fault. He wouldn’t be here, kissing his twin brother, if not for the cruel fist that had struck his cheek. He can’t help it, he starts smiling into the kiss, and Stan smiles back. He laughs into it, and Stan laughs back, both of them suddenly hysterical. Ford notices Stan’s tears are back through his now blurry eyes. They press their foreheads together, looking at each other, both equally a mess of happy tears and wide grins, and Ford can’t help but think to himself-

* * *

“Thank you, Pops.” Ford says under his breath, wide smile on his face and whole body radiating grim smugness.

“Hmm?” Stan hums sleepily from his spot beside Ford, snuggled against his brothers naked body. He was still drowsy from their lovemaking, and the rock of the boat was dangerously effective in keeping them in that state.

Ford puts his hand to the back of Stan’s head, reveling in the hair between his fingers and the warm body against his own. He pulls Stan close to him, and places a warm, smiling kiss to his brothers forehead.

“It’s nothing, love. Go to sleep.”


End file.
